'Her truth', she covered it with a turtle neck winter, spring, summer, and fall. In the summer months, they were sleeveless, and that was fine - as long as her neck didn't show. She rarely spoke about her truth.
Camilla worked as a librarian, was medium height for a woman, a bit stocky, and had just turned 30. She enjoyed the silence of the library. That is what she told herself. The energy was quiet and subtle within the stacks of books and large banquet-like tables. It was unlike the energy of a sports bar with 10 simultaneous roaring TVs on different channels, and colorful, mismatched paraphernalia draped over the entire surface of the walls.
There was order in a library.
Camilla liked the slower energies, like that of a weeping willow, a meandering stream. She often wished the world would slow down and notice the energy of a buttercup. It was just in her DNA, she repeatedly told herself and others. She had convinced herself that it was her personality. But deep down, she knew it was much more than that. Something that happened long ago.
People were soft and quiet in a library. She liked things slow and structured, so there would be no surprises and all could be controlled.
Camilla had been abducted when she was three. The ordeal had lasted several years. She was recovered by her parents and police when she was 5 years old. She remembered very little except for the dog collar and a tugging sensation that she felt from time to time, even though no one was there to tug. There was also a red ring around the base of her neck, which did not let her forget what had happened, even if she didn't recall details. The scar, a bright red, thin line, was always there. She imagined chaffing from the collar had left their mark, as had her captors. Camilla has been told about the abduction, but she had very little recollection besides that periodic tugging sensation around her throat and neck. She also had a scar that went completely around the base of her neckline. It was a red scar line as if someone had attempted to cut her throat or even perhaps cut off her head.
She thought of this with very little emotion. She couldn't remember details; she just had the words and stories of others and the cut-throat scar for a permanent necklace. She just felt safer when things were quiet, she could forget herself and her worries. She never really wanted to know much about it. She didn't feel it would serve her to find out more.
"Hello." A frail, pale-skinned man stood in front of her, next to her, between two rows of books. She had not seen him approach her. He was wearing a suit and tie.
"Hello," Camilla responded.
"Are you the librarian?" he asked.
"Well, I work here." She responded. "How can I help you?"
"I want to do some research on certain events that happened nearly 25 years ago. Where can I find old newspapers?"
"Ah, microfiche, yes, please follow me," Camilla responded, the hair behind her neck felt like it was rising and prickly. She wasn't sure she could explain this.
Camilla sat down in front of the machine and began to explain how to use the equipment, turn on the lamp, let it warm up, this is how you move forward, and this is how you reverse, if you want a copy, you can snap a picture, etc. She was rattling the instructions as she had done many times before.
The man stood there, looking at her, then back at the equipment, when she looked towards him.
"What newspaper and what was the year range you are looking for?" She asked.
"1993-1995," he replied. "The local tribune is the only one I want to look at."
Camilla went back to get the microfiche box that contained that time frame. The man had sat down in front of the equipment as was playing with the knobs.
She handed the box and stayed to watch him load his first one - to see if he needed help. She did this with everyone who seemed to be new to microfiche. He fumbled a bit when one of the fiches seemed to get stuck. Camilla leaned into the equipment to help, as did the man. She pulled back and, in a flash, she saw, maybe even recognized, a red marking on his neck.